Bogged Down
by TheOneYouCallWe
Summary: Gabriel loves April Fool's. Crack. Un-beta'd. One-shot.


Bogged Down

Summary: Gabriel loves April Fool's. Crack.

Ramblings: Er. Rough-ish draft. Like the 2nd, maybe? I didn't have enough time/patience to go through it a 3rd time, so I posted it as-is. 8D Inspired by a back-and-forth of some seriously cracktastic texts between me and Silver Fallen. Seriously, Lam? Seriously? 8D

Notes: Um…no pairings? Un-beta'd, stoned!Castiel, freaky!Lucifer, and wastedonhelium!Sam, who I keep trying to call Samuel.

* * *

It all started with a phone call from Castiel. There was nothing unusual about the call itself, but rather the ringtone that played on his cell—a ringtone that he swore to _God_ he had not chosen; _"Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you…"_

Rick Fucking Astley was playing on his cell phone.

"…I hate my life."

**_ooooooo_**

Lucifer was not party to the concept of sleep; it was foreign at best, and useless at worst. Nick, his vessel, required no sleep as the human had already passed on (violently, painfully, and with much bloodshed); instead, Lucifer forcefully replenished the energy needed to fuel the host.

Obviously though, this could only last so long.

Samuel Winchester, on the other hand, would require no sustenance—no energy at all. Lucifer and he were (or would be, if the human would just _say 'yes' already)_ on a perfect wavelength, completely harmonious. There would be no ill effects to the vessel, and Lucifer would not need to funnel a portion of his energy into it.

So it was rather understandable how alarmed Lucifer was when he woke up—literally _woke up—_in the vessel of his dreams. Confounded, he commanded the vessel (subconsciously—wavelengths, harmony, blah blah blah) to sit up, stunned at the ease with which it moved. He slowly examined Samuel's scarred, worn hands, amazed at how…_perfect_ it all was.

This was all, of course, after mentally flipping out at the disturbing, foreign feeling of _sleeping_ and _waking up._

**_ooooooo_**

Ruby was at the foot of his bed…wait, why was Ruby at the foot of his bed? Wasn't she back in hell? Oh shit, was he in _hell?!_ Was he _dead?! _Samuel bemoaned the thought of such a young death—_again!—_and buried his oddly angular face into his oddly chafed hands. He ignored Ruby's alarmed expression (well why wouldn't she be?) and how she was referring to him as 'Master.'

Ew much?

"Ruby?" There was a distinct lack of gravel in his voice, but he brushed it off uncaringly. "Er, yes Master?"

"Could you, maybe, go away?" He knew it was all for naught—after all, he had no actual say in what would happen to him in hell.

So his shock at her obeying him was no surprise.

What the hell kind of parallel world was he in?

**_ooooooo_**

"It's true…" Lucifer whispered, stroking lightly at his vessel's cheeks. He had been locked in the bathroom for quite some time now, simply reveling in the absolute _beauty_ that was Samuel Winchester. He combed the large, toughened hand through his hair—he could honestly call the vessel _his—_it was such a wonderful feeling!—still in awe at his perfection.

Outside the restroom, Dean shouted and pounded on the doors, but Lucifer continued to ignore him. He'd deal with the little Holy Vessel later. Right now, he had a body to explore.

**_ooooooo_**

"…please tell me this isn't true." Sam stared, horrified, at the body reflected in the cut glass. Lucifer. He was in Lucifer's former vessel.

…which meant Lucifer was in _his_ body.

_"MotherFUCKER."_

_**ooooooo**_

Unfortunately, the change appeared to be non-permanent. Rather, it was more of a… 'gift' from his asshole brother—I mean, _godsend_ brother, Gabriel. Surely it was meant to be more of a prank, as Lucifer's actions were still very limited (he was severely lacking in what would be his normal devastating powers) but it was still an incredible feeling.

He thanked the Archangel heartily; Gabriel just mentally shrugged.

_'It's April Fool's Day. It's my job as a Trickster to go and fuck with you and the Winchester's minds.'_

_ 'Nonetheless, you have my thanks.'_

_ 'Sure, brother. But don't forget—once you get back in your first vessel, you'll have a lot of explaining to do with your minions.'_

Lucifer scoffed silently; he was currently seated on the edge of the 'bed,' observing how it creaked under his newfound weight. Feet from him, Dean stared hauntedly, assumedly terrified at Samuel's bizarre antics.

Lucifer didn't mind.

_'How do you mean? My followers trust me implicitly.'_

Gabriel rolled his eyes (or what would be rolling his eyes if they weren't communicating telepathically). _'You've got a freaked out kid in the Devil's goddamn body. You don't think he's going to take advantage of that?'_

"…shit."

_'Exactly.'_

**_ooooooo_**

So he was trapped in Satan. No biggie. He just had to avoid 'niceness,' other angels, Ruby (intuitive bitch), and unusual habits…what the hell were Satan's 'usual habits,' then? Skulking? Plotting world domination? _Scrabble?_

Sam—or rather, Lucifer's face—drew down into a deep-set grimace.

"…shit."

**_ooooooo_**

"Cas," Dean whispered into his cell phone, his eyes glancing at his disturbingly gleeful brother cautiously. Sam had begun to thumb over his toenails with a look of absolute _awe,_ and it only furthered to creep the hell out of Dean. He needed some angelic assistance. "I need your help."

_"Why?"_

"Something's…weird. With Sam."

_"…I'm on my way."_

He had just closed the phone shut when the angel zapped into existence inches away from him. "…you know I hate it when you do that."

"My apologies." Castiel didn't _look_ apologetic. "What is the problem?"

"It's…it's Sam. He's been…" he tried to be stealthy about it, glancing furtively at the younger male; however, Castiel was as oblivious as ever. Sighing, he forcibly turned the small angel to stare dead-on at the giant of a man…who was now combing his hair and _tittering_ like a goddamn schoolgirl.

"…I…have no idea."

Dean could only facepalm.

**_ooooooo_**

Why the demons had a tank full of helium the world would never know. Still, Sam was immensely grateful for it. Helium + Body swap with the Devil = Ruining the bastard's reputation immensely.

What's not to like?

He giggled at his high-pitched giggles, then giggled some more.

**_ooooooo_**

"Demons. It's gotta be demons. Only demons would pull…whatever this shit is."

"Dean, I really don't think—"

"The bastards just decided that instead of mauling us, they were gonna fuck with Sam's mental state and make him into a creepy teenage girl."

"Honestly, Dean, it's something—"

"Swear, I'm going to kill the lot of—"

"Dean Winchester, will you _shut up for a moment?!"_ Castiel bellowed, glaring at the dumbfounded human. Usually he didn't lose his temper so easily, but it had been a rough couple of hours and all he wanted was for Dean to shut the fuck up and _listen._

Dean squeaked.

"It's not demons, you idiot!" He cursed at the hunter; Dean shrank away at the insult, as mild as it was. "It's a damn Archangel! It's _Gabriel;_ the blasted _Trickster!_ Are you honestly so _blind?!_" Castiel snarled at him, gripping the lapels of his human's denim jacket tightly.

Again, Dean squeaked…and Sam/Lucifer squealed once more.

**_ooooooo_**

Castiel knew there was no way he could find the apathetic archangel on his own. However, he _also_ knew that Gabriel was an egomaniacal bastard and would come by (eventually) to brag and brag about he one-upped the 'Great Winchesters & Co.' So he would wait. And wait. And wait.

Four hours later and Castiel was about to scoop his eyeballs out with blunt spoons (redundant) he was so inhumanly bored—pun intended. God, he had lived through four millennia of mindless cloud-viewing, and then he breaks in 240 minutes? It was practically shameful!

Castiel groaned and buried his vessel's face in his hands.

"Castiel," Sam's voice rang out oddly higher-pitched; however, Castiel disregarded it as another prank of his brother's. "Mind if I give you something?"

A sigh. "What is it?"

There was an odd flash across Sam's eyes that went unnoticed. "A plant called marijuana. I have heard it helps one to 'loosen up,'" Castiel quirked at eyebrow at Sam's air quotes, "and you look very tense."

"…isn't it illegal?"

Sam stared at him flatly.

"…fair enough." He missed Sam's rather evil grin as he passed over the already-lit marijuana cigarette; he coughed loudly at its intensity. "It's…certainly potent." He paused, waiting for the effects of the drug to kick in. "However, I am not experiencing this 'loosen up' as you describe it."

Again, Sam smirked darkly. "Oh, you'll feel it soon enough."

**_ooooooo_**

Thus far, the consensus was this: Castiel was high as a kite (and _Sam_ was the one who caused this—note to self: keep eye on Sam), Sam was acting like a creepy teenage girl in a hot guy's body, Gabriel was a complete asshole, and…well, that was about as much as he knew.

God, Dean hated his life so much.

**_ooooooo_**

"How're you feeling, brother?" Gabriel grinned wildly; Castiel's trademarked chaotic hair was stuck on one side, and his eyes were as wide as saucers. The falling angel couldn't seem to properly sit up—he kept slumping over to one side.

Gabriel stifled a rabid chortle; his brother was _completely_ tanked.

Warily—he'd never be able to break the habit—he glanced at Sam Winchester. Or rather, his vessel. Underneath he could see the amazingly bright star that was Lucifer shining through, although it was perfectly concealed from non-angels. Only Sam Winchester's body could house the Devil and nobody know.

Sam Winchester's body, at the moment, was smirking so wide he could put a Cheshire Cat to shame.

"You appear…almost happy, brother."

" 'Almost'?"

"You won't truly be content until all of Heaven, Hell, and Creation has been destroyed."

A twitch. "Fair enough. Have you come to collect?"

Gabriel nodded. "I can't appear to be taking sides now, can I? Now come on, it's time you left. Now don't scowl," Sam's eyes briefly flashed a solid black, "you know that if I wanted to, I could call Michael right here and be done with it. So out."

If Gabriel hadn't known Lucifer so well, he'd've sworn the angel was pouting.

"Oh, before I leave, there's something else I must thank you for." Gabriel blinked lazily. Sam's vessel stood up, brushing his jeans off from the dust. "Zachariah, the bloody bastard, sent a premonition to Dean."

"Yes, and?"

Here Sam's evil smile returned. "You, my brother, have just aided and abetted me in achieving said premonition," his smile turned into a terrifying sneer just as he disappeared from the angel's view.

"…goddamnit."

**_ooooooo_**

Four hours later and Castiel was still high, Sam had locked himself in his emo corner, and Dean's cell phone was _still_ playing Rick Fucking Astley.


End file.
